Mission Accomplished

“Megan, what in the world?” Trish asked, looking from the thoroughly beaten man on the floor to Megan.

“Lover’s quarrel,” Melnikova said with Megan’s voice.

Trish stared at her, open-mouthed for moment, then stooped to help Harris.

“Easy, Hon,” she said. “How bad are you hurt?” Trish looked away as she telekinetically put the pajama bottoms, still bunched around his ankles, back in place.

“Not Megan,” Harris mumbled into her ear. Trish glanced up at Not-Megan.

Melnikova watched through Megan’s eyes, sizing up the young woman who had appeared so abruptly. Trish Reilly, waitress. She would be the next target. But what now? Melnikova had done her job. She had utterly traumatized and violated Megan to the core of her being. She’d made Megan an unwilling and helpless witness and accessory to the brutal torment and rape of the one most precious to her.